Death Trip. Lee Weeks

There are so many people in this building who hate you. You’re really good at pissing people off.’

      ‘Well, I have to be good at something.’ He grinned.

      ‘You’re good at a lot of things, Johnny, that’s what pisses them off. If they didn’t need you, you’d be gone. You’re a loner, I know, but don’t spend too long out on a limb, Johnny. You may never be able to come back.’

       23

      Alfie kissed Magda goodbye and left for work. On the way out he looked up the street and saw the surveillance car. He thought it best not to tell Magda that she was being followed. She was bound to look around out of curiosity and Mann was right, neither Magda nor Jake had the luxury of time. They had to throw everything they had at it and chase any leads no matter how remote.

      After Alfie had left Magda sat in her kitchen and dialled NAP’s number. She had plenty to do now, which was good. She had to try and get all the information she could out of Dorothy and ask for her help.

      ‘Can I speak to Dorothy, please?’

      ‘Who’s calling?’

      ‘Her niece; it’s urgent,’ Magda lied.

      ‘Hello?’ A nervous voice came on the phone.

      ‘Hi, Dorothy, I’m sorry. It’s Magda Cremer here. I didn’t want anyone to know who it was calling. Can you meet me for a coffee? There’s a Brazilian place at the end of your street.’

      ‘I know it. It’s my break in twenty minutes. I can come then.’

      ‘Thanks—I’m on my way.’

      Magda was dressed and out the door in two minutes. She texted Alfie to tell him where she was. He texted his man outside to tell him she was on the move.

      Magda sat in the small terracotta-tiled café and waited by the window. She waved as Dorothy appeared. Dorothy was always smart, today wearing a purple pashmina over a mauve jumper and a tweed skirt that ended mid-calf.

      ‘Thank you so much for coming, Dorothy.’

      ‘Please…’ Dorothy took off her pashmina and hung her coat on the back of the chair as she ordered a coffee. ‘I am so glad you called.’

      She sat down, and looked hard at Magda before smiling kindly.

      ‘I know you have been ill and what with losing Daniel last year and now this…I thought it best to keep out of your way. But I have wanted to get in touch to tell you how sorry I am and, of course, whatever I can do to help, I will. Sorry…’ Dorothy reached over and put her hand onto Magda’s. ‘…I didn’t mean to upset you.’

      Magda shook her head, trying to shake off her tears. She hated the fact that she could no longer get through five minutes without crying. She couldn’t bear people to mention her sons. She had almost lost hope of ever seeing Jake again and she missed Daniel more than ever.

      ‘Deming would have been so proud of you and the boys. You did a great job raising them.’

      Magda looked shocked. ‘You knew Deming?’

      Dorothy nodded. ‘Yes, in my youth. I was working as a bookkeeper and I was asked if I would like to do some secretarial work for a Chinese businessman. And the businessman turned out to be Deming. Those days we didn’t have emails and laptops, we did it all on a typewriter. The secretary was a vital part of the busi-nessman’s life. I liked Deming. He was very generous. He made several large donations to charities.’

      ‘Did you know about me?’

      Dorothy nodded. ‘Not from Deming, of course, I was his secretary, not his close friend. But I saw you together many times. I thought you made a lovely couple. You both seemed happy. Of course, I knew he had a family back in Hong Kong. I knew there was another son: I was responsible for typing letters to lawyers, making arrangements that concerned the will. Johnny Mann, he is called, isn’t he? I recognised him when he came to the office the other day. It was lovely looking at him—he’s such a big tall man, isn’t he? I think he looks most like Daniel.’